Transformations: The 50th Annual Hunger Games
by TheShiningEmblem
Summary: The Quarter Quell has come back to haunt the Districts, and this year, its pool of tributes has been doubled. In an arena filled with twisted mutations and deadly secrets, all controlled by a mysterious new Gamemaker, 48 tributes must learn to survive the blood-sport that is the Hunger Games, or end up meeting a fateful demise. (A non-canon, not SYOT story)
1. Poor Unfortunate Souls

Poor Unfortunate Souls

**A/N: Welcome to the 50****th**** Annual Hunger Games! This is a story that I've been planning for a few weeks, so it's nice to finally start it! The first chapter is a little sketchy, but it'll get better!**

The Gamemakers' control center had recently been redone with a crystal blue color theme, as opposed to last year's pitch black décor. President Snow was pleased.

"I like the new coloring, Daiquiri," President Snow told the newest Head Gamemaker, a dark-skinned man with glasses and a shaved head, donning a maroon suit.

"Thanks you, Mr. President, and wait until you see this year's arena. It'll blow you away."

"And why is that?"

"Let's just say that its beauty shields its danger."

"Interesting," Snow replied, rubbing his chin. He gestured to two chairs at the center of the control room. "Shall we watch the Reapings?"

Daiquiri nodded, and the two headed to their seats, passing dozens of workers in pure white suits messing with hundreds of virtual settings and variables.

As Cornelius sat, he looked at Daiquiri Remelle. He liked this guy. He was much more intelligent than Prescott Daniels, last year's, now deceased Head Gamemaker, who had failed to make a good arena. Surely this new leader wouldn't disappoint…

"I have to admit," Daiquiri told Snow. "I'm kind of excited to see the tributes for this year's Games. They _are_ my first bunch, you know."

"And on such a good occasion," Snow chuckled. The two laughed, as the giant screen situated in the control center came to life, showing the District One symbol. An overhead shot of the Justice Building was shown, decorated in multicolored gems and prisms.

The Reapings progressed throughout the Districts, and the Gamemakers seemed to have their own opinions on each one.

"He looks like a strong tribute."

"Bloodbath, called it!"

"He's dead meat."

"She looks tough."

It was around the time when District 7 came along when Cornelius noticed the Head Gamemaker taking notes on a small, leather-bound notepad. He tipped his head.

"And what might you be doing, Mr. Remelle?"

"Writing down everyone's name and age," he replied, concentrating on his writings.

"And why would that be?"

Daiquiri stopped and turned to the President. "You'll find out when the Games start."

Snow kept watching the Gamemaker for a few minutes, and then shrugged and refocused his attention on the Reapings.

"You know, Remelle, I don't want you becoming attached to these tributes. They're all going to die eventually."

"I know. Let's just say I need to memorize them. There's something that I'd like to add to the arena, for…" Daiquiri grinned slyly. "Shock factor."

**A/N: This story is a revamp of the 50****th**** Games. All tributes are original. No Haymitch, No Maysilee, etc. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to leave a review!**

**-EMBLEM**


	2. Daiquiri's Notes (Tribute List)

Daiquiri's Notes

This chapter is here just for a list of the tributes, just in case you forget who's who. The two males are first, and the two females are second, and the Chapter # is the tributes' Reaping chapter. All of the tributes will get their own chapter.

One:

Trip Arenton (17) (Volunteer) Ch. 3

Copious Lartrick (17) Ch. 4

Shade Colresse (17) (Volunteer) Ch. 5

Angel Geniva (16) Ch. 6

Two:

Atlas Topazine (16) (Volunteer) Ch. 7

Tamerlane Cobenus (16) Ch. 8

Artemis Wolker (15) (Volunteer) Ch. 9

Hazel Donelly (16) Ch. 10

Three:

Chip Davis (13) Ch. 11

Macro Yansing (17) Ch. 12

Tosca Andrewson (16) Ch. 13

Mystique Popper (15) Ch. 14

Four:

Grover Ontario (13) (Volunteer) Ch. 15

Osiris Cyprus (16) Ch. 16

Evangeline Worthington (17) (Volunteer) Ch. 17

Holly Creer (15) Ch. 18

Five:

Vermillion Holken (16) Ch. 19

Astral Effellius (15) Ch. 20

Rosa Berel (12) Ch. 21

Natalia Vaminich (17) Ch. 22

Six:

Clete Geofferson (17) Ch. 23

Hector Nairis (15) Ch. 24

Sprite Odell (16) (Volunteer) Ch. 25

Misami Beckell (16) Ch. 26

Seven:

Yossarian Parch (15) Ch. 27

Brim Sovien (14) Ch. 28

Kimono Keaton (17) Ch. 29

Camille Rosenburg (14) Ch. 30

Eight:

Fabron Turesse (16) Ch. 31

Echo Lapis (18) Ch. 32

Farrah Scotting (16) Ch. 33

Grace Marnier (12) Ch. 34

Nine:

Zig Viscara (12) Ch. 35

Regis Mosier (16) Ch. 36

Cleo Cominich (14) Ch. 37

Chrysanthemum Ashton (16) Ch. 38

Ten:

Kornelius Baffton (18) (Volunteer) Ch. 39

Flame Javin (12) Ch. 40

Eris Wilch (16) (Volunteer) Ch. 41

Lynx Moroge (15) Ch. 42

Eleven:

Pine Barelton (17) Ch. 43

Dew Randall (13) Ch. 44

Cataldi Finnich (13) Ch. 45

Acai Cleppler (16) Ch. 46

Twelve:

Onyx Esterdale (18) Ch. 47

Spark Plutton (16) Ch. 48

Araynia Vuller (15) (Volunteer) Ch. 49

Serene Florence (16) Ch. 50


	3. Trip

Trip Arenton

**A/N: In response to Zazzy's review, the reason that I have more volunteers is because there are more individual stories, since there are more tributes. The four volunteers all volunteer for different reasons, by the way.**

**Time for the first Reaping chapter! I'll try to post one of these every two days or so. Let me know what you thought of this tribute! **

Trip met his boss's eyes, waiting to hear the good news.

"You're fired."

Trip froze. It wasn't what he was expecting. Fired? Why? He liked his job, and was a good employee, too!

"W-why?" Trip stuttered. "How I done anything wrong?"

Miles, his boss, stopped, looking for the right words.

"You're a good guy, Trip, but, I don't feel that this job is right for you."

"Why?"

"Come on, Trip. You sit at a desk for four hours a day filling out paperwork. You're more active than that! You need a job where you can be on your feet more often."

Trip sighed. Miles was a nice man. He didn't want to argue with him. Glum, he slowly exited Miles's Jewelry Bazaar, leaving his employee card on Miles's cherry-wood desk.

The white neon lights at the store's front reflected off Trip as he hopped onto his bike and pedaled home. Cold air stung his cheeks and throat, but home wasn't that far away.

After arriving home, Trip hung up his olive, hooded jacket on the bronze coat rack and met his mother; Elena, and Pashmina; his little sister, in the dining room. He took a seat at one of the leathery black chairs next to his sister, who watched him with her dazzling green eyes.

It was tradition for the Arenton family to have pulled pork sandwiches and coleslaw, a favorite meal of both of the children, on the night before the Reapings. Trip began to consume his sandwich, tasting the runny, tangy sauce on his tounge, when his mother asked him the question he didn't want to hear.

"How was work, Trip?"

"I got fired," he mumbled under his breath.

"What?" Elena asked, not hearing her son.

"He got fired, again!" Pashmina giggled, her brown pigtails bobbing up and down as she bounced in her seat. She took enjoyment in Trip's failure.

Trip braced for a scolding from his mother, but he got none. It had been the fourth time Trip had gotten fired in the past year, and his mother was used to it. There was no real need for Trip to work, considering that Elena had a high-paying job as an arts administrator, but Trip wanted to have some sort of experience in the workforce before he became an adult.

So far, it wasn't going well.

The three relatives shared stories about friends, work, and other things for the next twenty minutes, and then, it was time to go to bed.

"Trip!" Elena called as her son began to go upstairs.

"Yeah, mom?"

"Your Reaping suit is on the back of your bedroom door, if you need it."

"Okay! Goodnight!"

The next morning, Trip took a shower and fixed himself up in front of the bathroom mirror. He combed through his messy, chestnut-colored hair and washed his face. He had to admit, he looked pretty good. His shining amber eyes stood out among his relatively pale and clear skin. The left end of his lips was a bit angular, giving off the effect that he had a permanent smirk, and his thin nose was perfectly aligned. He threw on a t-shirt and jeans, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

The only one in the dining room was Pashmina. Rolling her scrambled eggs around on her fork, holding her head in her hand, she looked quite sad.

Trip immediately knew what was upsetting her.

When Trip was ten, his mother had first told him about the Reapings, and he had been shocked. Pashmina had turned ten less than two months ago.

"Look," he told her, putting his hand on her elbow in a comforting gesture. "You don't have to worry about it. You still have two years before you're even eligible, and I only have six slips in there, out of thousands."

"So? You still could be picked."

Trip was silent. He rested his head next to Pashmina's and sat there with her for a few minutes. He felt bad for his sister, but at least she had a sibling to comfort her.

He had been alone.

Later, Trip threw on his Reaping clothes, a mahogany polo and gray khakis. Trip hated the itchy clothes, but he knew that he would take them off as soon as he got home.

Trip bid farewell to his family, while Pashmina cried, and headed towards the Justice Building of District One. A large crowd of people had gathered at the building for the Reapings. Echoes of conversation were at large, and so was the building tension of the upcoming events.

After signing in, Trip made his way to the Male, 17 section, while the mayor of the district read the Treaty of Treason.

He eyed the four Reaping balls on the stage. District One always had a special way of picking the Careers each year. Anyone who wanted to become a tribute would have to fill out a special form, and then submit it to the government. The Reaping ball would only contain the names of tributes that filled out the form. Trip was one of the volunteers. The other two balls were there because of the special rule in the 50th Games that doubled the amount of tributes. From each Career district, there would be two volunteers, and two chosen tributes. Those extra balls contained the names of children who didn't want to volunteer. Needless to say, these balls were much more unfilled than the volunteer balls.

The escort, Levi, was a very annoying man, at least to Trip. He had golden hair that spiked out in all directions, and his eyes had been dyed to match his hair. His skin almost had a bluish tinge to it, and he had a very shrilling voice, along with an undying love for the Hunger Games. He explained the Quell twist, even though everyone knew it.

"To show that for every Capitol citizen that dies, two rebels will die, each district must Reap two males and two females for this year's Games, resulting in a total of 48 tributes. Now, let's Reap our lucky volunteer lady!"

Levi strutted over to the girls' bowl and traced his fingers along the pile of slips, before pulling out one near the top.

The crowd had gone silent.

"Shade Colresse!"

Trip watched as a tall, beautiful, black-haired girl wearing a beige dress walked up to the stage. Her green eyes gave off a feeling of surprise, but the rest of her face was emotionless.

No doubt that she would be a Career.

Levi gave the girl a few words of encouragement, and then moved onto the male volunteer, repeating the process. He swiftly picked out a slip.

"Trip Arenton!" he trilled.

The crowd went still. Trip was a popular guy in the district, so no one wanted for him to be Reaped.

"No!" a young voice screamed, cutting through the silence. Trip recognized it as Pashmina's. He didn't move, looking at his little sister in fear.

A sudden, painful grip on both of his arms seized Trip, and the Peacekeepers started dragging him to the stage. Trip regained his composure and walked the rest of the way,

The other two tributes were Reaped, but Trip only paid attention to the crying figure of Pashmina.

"You promised…" Pashmina whimpered, gripping to Trip's shirt. "You said that you'd be fine."

"It'll be okay," Trip assured her, scared for his baby sister. "I'll be back in a few weeks. I'm going to win the Games."

"How do you know? There are 48 people out there."

"Well, how can you be so sure that I won't win?"

This seemed to calm Pashmina, but she wouldn't let go of Trip's shirt. Her grip tugged the shirt's uncomfortable fabric along Trip's skin, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered right now, except for his family.

"Are you joining the Careers?" Elena asked him.

"Probably."

"Be careful out there. Get them to trust you." She kissed him on the cheek. "I know you'll come back."

Trip was very surprised by his mother's calmness. He thought she'd be mortified.

The Peacekeepers told them that it was time to leave, and his mother hugged him. She began to leave, but Pashmina wouldn't let go. Some reassurance from Elena made her come with her, but Pashmina kept her eyes on Trip the whole way out.

Trip could only smile as his sister disappeared from his view as the door closed.

He received a few more goodbyes, from his friends and other family, but his mother's faith in him winning kept him happy throughout all of it. When it was time to leave, Trip boarded the train, knowing that at least someone believed in him.

And hope, for him, was the fuel that kept him going.

**A/N: Trip is one of my favorites from the Career districts, so, I hoped that you like him too! Don't forget to review! **

**Next up: Copious Lartrick!**


	4. Copious

Copious Lartrick

**A/N: I love waking up on a snowy morning…**

**By the way, I always answer questions in the reviews, so…**

**Zazzy: Trip didn't **_**want**_** to be in the Games, but since he's centered on responsibility, he thought that it was his responsibility to volunteer for the Games. He didn't expect to be Reaped.**

Copious opened his eyes to a loud thumping noise. The sunlight peeking over the horizon through his bedroom window took over his sight, and he flinched away.

"Sorry!" exclaimed a voice, one that he recognized. It was his aunt, Lola.

_Already?_ Copious thought. He looked at his alarm clock and read the neon green numbers. _There's still five hours until the Reapings!_

Copious slid out of his quilted bed, got dressed in a navy blue t-shirt and cargo khaki shorts, and made his way downstairs, his slightly-muscular body slumping as he walked.

In the living room was a large percentage of his family. His aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and parents were all rushing around, wielding hair-dryers, clothing, make-up, and other grooming equipment, trying to get this year's eligible Lartricks ready for the Reaping.

In the midst of the chaos, his mother, Cecile, approached him. Her ginger curls fell over her face, and her soft, blue eyes looked directly at him.

"Grab some breakfast, Copious, and then come back to get ready."

Copious nodded, and headed to the kitchen.

The Lartrick family was one of the richest in the district. Ever since his grandfather, Granite, had invested in the diamond business. He had died ten years ago, so Copious's father, Azarius, had inherited the tycoon. Copious had no worries or bad feelings now, except for one thing…

The Hunger Games.

In the kitchen was one of his cousins (and his best friend) Calla, and his baby brother, Heathcliff.

"Morning," Calla greeted Copious. She was consuming a Belgian waffle. To Copious, Calla was a very beautiful girl. She had curly, chocolate brown hair, shining blue eyes, a small nose, and freckled cheeks.

Heathcliff was on the ground, playing with a toy airplane. He looked a lot like his older brother, even though he was only four. They both had the same dark ginger, almost brown hair and straight-bridged noses.

Copious sat next to Calla, grabbing a plate of eggs and toast that had already been laid out for him. He began to eat.

"So," Calla asked him in her quiet voice. "You scared?"

"Of the salon in the living room?" Copious joked. "Yeah."

Calla chuckled. "No, about the Reapings."

"A little. I didn't volunteer-"

"Neither did I," Calla interrupted.

Copious paused. "I didn't volunteer, and I bet that there are only a few hundred others who didn't."

Calla ate a forkful of waffle. "Why didn't you volunteer? I've seen you do some training before."

Copious gestured to Heathcliff. "I didn't want to risk abandoning him."

His cousin nodded, and the two finished their meals. Soon, Copious slowly rose from his seat, clenching the glass tabletop to support himself.

"Time to be tortured," he sighed. He remembered last year's 'beautification,' and all of the hands preening his face and hair, as if they were some sort of tentacled monster. It made him feel uncomfortable.

"Why bother?" asked Calla. "It's not like you don't look fine already."

Copious blushed. "Thanks. They'll probably notice if I'm gone, though."

"They won't. They've got, like, ten other 'patients' in there."

"But I'm the son of the group. Our cousins are their nieces and nephews. They'll be expecting me the most."

"Well, I guess 'the son won't be getting any special treatment this year." Calla walked over to the arch that led out of the kitchen. "Come on, let's go for a ride."

Copious knew what his cousin was talking about, so he followed her, picking up Heathcliff before leaving the room.

Approaching the living room, Copious and Calla tried to sneak past their family, not making any commotion.

"Where are you three going?" asked a shaky voice.

Copious turned to his grandmother, Summer. She was in her eighties, and was his mother's mother. She had thin, white hair and blue eyes, like her daughter. She looked rather young for her age, as her skin barely had any wrinkles, and she still maintained a good posture and physical appearance. No frustration came from her voice, which confused Copious.

"We're going for a bike ride," Calla responded, truthfully. Copious sighed. Calla had never been one to tell a lie.

Summer thought it over. "All right, but be back in a few hours. I really don't like this whole 'prepping' process, anyways."

Copious and Calla smiled.

"Thanks, Grandma," Copious thanked Summer, his voice containing relief and happiness. The three children ran out of the house.

Crisp, green grass was crushed under their feet as they ran over to the tool shed, where Calla and Copious's bikes were stored.

Calla held the rusty doorknob, struggling to get it to turn all the way.

"You really need to get this updated," she groaned.

"I know," Copious chuckled.

Opening the door, Calla pulled out their two bikes. Copious's bike was bright red, with a black baby seat in the back for Heathcliff, who was still small enough to fit into it. Calla's was colored a deep violet with aqua stripes.

Putting Heathcliff into his seat, the two cousins took off on their bikes, cruising down the street at a half-leisurely, half-competitive pace.

It was for reasons like this; their daily bike rides, that a lot of both teenagers' friends thought that they were romantically involved. Calla got pressured by her friends to ask him out, and Copious got teased by his friends about their bond, but there was no romance between them. It would just be awkward dating someone who was practically your sibling. Plus, to Copious, romances between cousins were kind of gross.

Copious felt the warm breeze streaking against his face. He heard Heathcliff's laughing and the wind rustling. The sunlight partially blinded him, but he had adapted to it.

All of the senses seemed to come together to form a feeling of peace, and Copious's mind pushed the Reapings aside.

He could've stayed like that forever.

A few hours later, Copious was at the Reapings with his cousins. Wearing a brown shirt, a black blazer, and black khakis, he waited in line with his other male cousins, Jeffrey, Bacchus, Paxton, and Thornton. They were quite recognizable; all wearing the same clothes, with the exception of the shirts, and most of the other people there knew that they were all related.

Copious signed in and made his way to the Male, 17 section, finding his friend, Maxwell. Maxwell stuck out like a sore thumb in District 1, being one of the few of the district's inhabitants to be non-Caucasian, having Hispanic heritage.

"Did you volunteer?" Maxwell asked him.

"No, you?"

"Nah. I'd be the first one to die, and you know it."

The two chucked, and the Treaty of Treason was read.

Levi made his way to the stage. Copious had heard a rumor somewhere that Levi was secretly a famous fashion designer in the Capitol. After looking at his ugly, frilly, shiny blue suit, he dismissed the rumor as false.

Then, the Reapings began.

Shade, a tall girl with jet black hair was the first to be Reaped. She was in Copious's art class at school, but the two had never talked.

Trip, another boy in his grade, and in the same section as him, was the next to be Reaped. He had the reputation around certain social circles to be very smart and persuasive. By the smirk on his face, it could've been true.

A few of his cousins, male and female, had now been let down, since they wouldn't be in the Games.

"Now, for the female non-volunteer," Levi announced loudly. The microphone emitted feedback, and Copious covered his ears.

As Levi walked over to the next bowl, he searched the crowd for Calla. The two made eye-contact, and she smiled.

Fortunately, Calla was not Reaped, but a 16-year-old girl with medium-length, light blonde hair and blue eyes named Angel was. A girl in the Female, 18 section tried to take her place, but she wasn't allowed. Angel was partially dragged to the stage, and then, it was time for the male non-volunteer.

Levi spun his hand around the slips, and Heathcliff flashed into Copious's mind. His cheerful smile made Copious afraid.

_Don't let it be me_, Copious thought. _He needs me so much…_

Levi pulled out a slip and opened it.

"Copious Lartrick!"

Copious's image of Heathcliff seemed to burn away at the sound of his name.

He turned to Maxwell, who was at a loss for words. He just stared at him with his hazel eyes.

Not wanting to be dragged along by the Peacekeepers, Copious approached the stage. He looked at the crowd. His volunteer cousins were envious of him, while the others were in shock.

He spotted Calla in the crowd. She was screaming and crying, trying to force her way to Copious, but the Peacekeepers were blocking her path.

He wanted to scream out to her, but an invisible force kept his voice lodged in his throat. 

The first group of people to enter the "Goodbye Room" was Copious's family, with the exception of his parents, Heathcliff, and Calla. His cousins that had volunteered; Paxton, April, Thornton, Jeffrey, Ravenna, and Vanessa, all congratulated him on going into the Games, telling him that they knew that he'd come back. Most of his other relatives joined in on the celebration.

Thornton, the oldest of his cousins, at 18-years-old, had a tone in his voice that almost told Copious to not even _dare _to lose the Games.

About a third of his family, however, was still in shock that Copious would be going into the Games, including Bacchus and Summer.

Copious had asked for a token, but his aunt, Lola had replied,

"You're a Lartrick! You don't need to remind yourself of your family when you know that you'll be coming back!"

But Summer had been prepared. After most of his family had left, Copious's grandmother quickly placed a token in his palm, kissed him on the cheek, and left.

Copious studied his token, a plain, titanium ring with a shimmering diamond in the middle. He immediately recognized it as his grandfather, Granite's.

Next was Maxwell. The two friends both tried to keep their cool in the situation, but Maxwell eventually broke out crying. Copious comforted him, telling him that he'd come back, and then, shortly after, Maxwell left.

Calla was next. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she ran over to him and grasped him in a slightly amorous hug. He felt her tears dropping onto his shoulder, and he started to cry.

"I'll miss you so much," Calla sobbed.

It was strange seeing Calla cry, as she had always seemed so happy. The last time he had seen her sad was over two years ago, when her aunt, Petunia, had died of a heart attack.

The two stood there, holding each other, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, Calla stopped crying, looking right into his eyes.

"Join the Careers," she told him, her eyes still pink from the tears. "Get a high position in their pack, and be prepared to betray them if you need to. I believe in you, Copious."

Copious smiled. "Thanks, Calla. I'll miss you when I'm gone."

The two stared at each other, and then Calla kissed him on the cheek, and left, smiling at him before shutting the door. It was nothing more than a butterfly kiss, but Copious felt like it was much more than that.

He couldn't believe how fast his life was being torn from him.

Next was his parents and Heathcliff. His mother and father, who had never envisioned this moment happening, did nothing more than say goodbye, and tell him that they loved him. It was as if Copious was doing nothing more than going to school.

"Why's he leaving?" Heathcliff asked him.

His mother stopped, not expecting for Heathcliff to ask her a question.

"He, he's just going on a trip," Cecile lied. She turned to Copious, her face giving off false happiness. "He'll be back in a couple weeks. Don't worry."

This seemed to make Heathcliff happy. "Bye, Copi!" he giggled.

Copious felt horrible for Heath, knowing that Heath would most likely never see his brother again.

His family began to leave, and his father turned and gave him a faint smile of gratitude and pity before leaving.

The feeling of immobilization took over again, and Copious just smiled weakly as the last trace of his past life was taken from his grasp.

**A/N: Honestly, I like Calla more than Copious, but, that's just me. I still like Copious though, and Summer.**

**Next up, Shade Colresse!**


	5. Shade

Shade Colresse

**A/N: I'm back! Would you believe me if I said I had to do 5 assignments over Christmas break? I wouldn't, either, but it's true. I was going to post yesterday, but it didn't work for some reason.**

**Thanks for reviewing, Steady Silence! It's nice to hear some advice. :)**

The metallic yellow light of the streetlights illuminated Shade's face, and twinkled in her electric green eyes. She leaned back onto the stone wall of _Le Pompeii._ Dinner had been amazing. The spicy food of the heat-themed restaurant had made her tongue tingle with heat, but not enough for it to be unnerving. The voices of people going out to eat the night before the Reaping echoed all around her, and the black sky signaled nightfall, meaning that Shade had broken curfew, again.

Next to her was Lumiere, her boyfriend, a handsome boy with deep, brown eyes, pale skin, sandy-blonde hair, and a slim figure. He had been the one to ask her out to dinner, and Shade was glad that he did. By the way his eyebrows were knit, Shade could tell that something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

Lumiere turned to her, his face full of worried desperateness, but he didn't respond.

Shade made the connection. "You're afraid that I'm going to be Reaped, isn't it?"

Lumiere sighed. "Yeah. But, you know what I mean, don't you? How do you think I could deal with losing you?"

"Lumiere, I'm probably not going to be Reaped, anyways."

"But what if you are?" Lumiere replied, his tone of voice becoming serious and tense.

Shade leaned closer to Lumiere. Shade was somewhat tall for her age, so she stood at eye-level with Lumiere.

"You know that I could win, 'Lumi'. You have no reason to doubt that I could come out of the arena alive."

Lumiere had started to become frustrated. "Why did you even volunteer?!" He looked at her with concern.

"I have the capability to win," Shade explained. "It's not like I'm _trying_ to leave you."

Lumiere was silent. He walked over to Shade, and she looked right into his eyes.

"I love you, Shade. I just don't want anything to happen to _us._"

He leaned in and kissed her, and Shade slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. His lips were soft, and her whole body tingled when they touched hers.

After a few seconds, Lumiere slowly pulled back.

"Good night," he told her, and began to walk home.

Shade watched him turn the corner and disappear behind the restaurant. Only then did Shade begin to make her way home.

* * *

On the way home, she passed a sign stapled to a wooden telephone pole. She stopped to read it.

"Parents, why are you letting your children volunteer for their own demise? Stop the volunteering, stop the heartbreak," she read. Shade shrugged, and continued home.

The cool summer night air hovered all around Shade as she reached home, the moon just peeking out into the sky over the horizon. Shade reached the back door of her house pulled out a silver key, gently placing it into the lock and turning it clockwise. There was a _tock_ sound as the door unlocked, and she went inside.

Shade was immediately met by her parents, who were standing by the kitchen counter. Her mother, Roxanne, a tall woman with reddish-brown, curly hair, wearing a loose, orchid-colored top and jeans, had her hands on her hips, her green eyes staring directly into Shade's. Her face showed general annoyance. Her father, Claude, seemed more worried than mad.

"Where have you been?" Roxanne sneered. "It's an hour past your curfew, you know."

"Lumiere took me out to dinner," Shade responded, not showing any sort of fear or worry as she looked at her mother.

"Where?" her mother questioned, not trusting Shade's words.

"Le Pompeii."

"What time?"

"Seven."

"Why are you back so late?"

"It was a busy night."

"Was it, or were you just _getting busy_ with Lumiere?" Her voice was as sharp as a blade, and it cut deep into Shade's train of thought.

It hurt that her mother would accuse her only child of something so… immature. But, that was her mother; always accusing her daughter of having rowdy, kinky, or some other type of obnoxious behavior on the frequent event of a broken curfew.

Thus, the verbal standoff continued.

* * *

Later that night, Shade tossed and turned in her warm bed covers, trying to coax her body into sleep. Her argument with her mother ended in silence, without any sort of punishment, as it always did, and with no intrusion from her kind, but timid father.

The creaking of the wooden stairs signaled that someone was coming up the stairs, and her bedroom door opened, her father stepping in.

"Shade?" Claude whispered. "I know you're still awake."

Shade, being on better terms with her father than her mother, turned on her bedside table lamp with the flip of a switch.

"What is it?" Shade yawned, getting a better look at her father as he sat down on the bed. His black hair was messy, and his eyelids were drooping, which covered part of his blue eyes.

"Can I talk to you?"

"About what?"

"Your mother."

"Oh, dear."

Claude chuckled. "Look, Shade. I don't believe that you intentionally break your curfew. You're seventeen, and you're a lot more mature than your mother sees you as. You can have your freedom, but you still need to let us know where you're going before you go out with your friends, or Lumiere."

"That doesn't mean that she has to go all crazy on me when I come back."

"She does it because she's afraid for you."

"Then, why does she accuse me of rebelling when I'm just late home?" Shade was beginning to get frustrated with her father. He wasn't making much sense.

Claude looked down, sighing. "You know Uncle Micah, right?"

"Yeah," Shade replied, not getting the point. "Mom's brother. He got killed by Peacekeepers when he was twenty."

"Do you know why?"

The reason hadn't ever come into Shade's mind, so she shook her head.

"He got drunk with his two friends and they thought that they could take on a guy with a gun; show 'em who's boss."

The information started to come into place like the pieces of a puzzle.

"Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that your mom is a bit paranoid. She thinks that you're going to end up like Micah if you keep breaking curfew. Do you get it?"

"I get it, but it still seems absurd," Shade admitted.

"It is," Claude agreed. "But I can't do much about it." He kissed Shade on the forehead. "Goodnight, Shade."

"Good night," Shade yawned, turning off her bedside lamp, darkening the room. Slowly, she nestled herself into her bed covers and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

District One had a hot climate, located in an area that, Shade had learned, had once been the state of California. It was a good thing that her Reaping outfit, a beige blouse with a matching skirt that brushed against her calves, was comfy and breathable.

She walked to the District's Justice Building with Lumiere. Not much was said, but Shade could tell that Lumiere was nervous by the gentle, steady shaking of his hand, which held hers. They separated into their sections separately, sharing a kiss before they left.

Shade had never really liked how the Reaping had been set up. Could the government at least provide some chairs for the ceremony? Standing kept her on edge.

She found herself next to April Thryton, a prissy, stuck-up girl that was always talking about how she'd be Reaped for the Quell. She had certainly dressed up for the occasion, wearing a champagne-gold evening-gown that complimented her platinum- blonde hair, along with white four-inch heels.

If she were Reaped, it would be good riddance.

After an over-exaggerated speech from Levi, a treaty reading, and a film, Levi turned to the female volunteer bowl. April leaned forward in expectation. No doubt that her millionaire mother had bribed a few more slips with her name on it into the bowl.

"Shade Colresse," Levi read.

Silence.

Shade looked at April. Her jaw hung open, and her back was curved forward in a primitive fashion. She then turned to Shade, giving her a piercing death-stare.

Shade quickly made her way to the stage before April could say anything. Her introduction was quick, and she tried to look as mature as possible throughout the rest of the Reaping, even though she was in shock about her Reaping.

The other three tributes were Reaped, but she only identified Trip, who was in a couple of her classes at school. At least, to Shade, they all looked formidable.

* * *

The goodbyes were the hardest hour of Shade's life. The first to enter the room was Claude, his eyes watering up with tears.

"Where's Mom?" Shade asked, immediately concerned.

Claude froze, shutting his eyes in regret.

"She… didn't want to see you. She thinks that you did this on purpose, to rebel. I didn't know how to explain it to her, and she left."

Shade, disappointed, closed her eyes and shook her head, pressing her fingers on her forehead.

"She needs help, Dad," Shade explained.

"I know," Claude sighed. "How am I supposed to tell her that she needs mental help, though?"

"Don't you know your own wife, Dad?!" Shade raised her voice.

"I didn't marry her when she was ill!"

"I don't care!" Shade yelled. "Take some responsibility and get her some help!" She breathed heavily. A chill came over her, and she felt bad for yelling at her dad.

But he didn't care. Embracing Shade in a hug, he whispered in her ear with the raspy voice he got when he was solemn, "I just want you to come back."

He gently placed Shade's token, a crystalized rose petal, shimmering and sharp, in her hand. She knew what it meant. The Peacekeeper stationed in the room signaled the end of the meeting, and, then, Claude kissed her forehead, and exited the room.

She watched the door shut, cherishing her moments with her father. She didn't have much time to return to reality before a grief-stricken Lumiere entered the room.

Propelling herself forward, she wrapped her arms around him. The heat from their bodies warmed her, and Lumiere pressed his lips against hers.

This was all that mattered for Shade. She knew that this is where she would be weeks from now; their lips pressed together, their arms holding each other, Lumiere's warmth engulfing her; when she pictured herself coming home as victor.

To her, it was inevitable.

**I'm not good with legitimate romance, so Shade and Lumi's relationship may be a little… strange. This is why most of my tributes, as you'll see, are single.**

**I finally figured out how to do page breaks! No more awkward, warningless transitions! Next up, Angel Geniva! You learned something about her in this chapter…**

**-Emblem**


End file.
